I couldn’t decide on a name. And I hadn’t even brought her home yet. A friend had helpful suggestions — “doggie, masala, mango, matchstick”. I shook my head furiously and clambered up the narrow staircase where I met her for the first time. Scared and cowering in a corner, this little girl puppy looked at me with pleading eyes. I bent down and picked her up. And did not let her down for the next 15 minutes.
A colleague had found her on the streets of Triplicane, and to his surprise, she ran right up to him and straight into his heart. But with five other dogs sharing his home, he could not keep her and so, he put her up for adoption online. I was very unsure in the beginning. Not only was everyone asking me to use this opportunity (my father had finally given me permission to get a dog after 20 years of arguing about it) to get my favourite breed, they kept insisting that I get a male dog.
So I almost said no, but during this phase, the colleague who had her asked me, “So what if she is a girl? She’s an intelligent dog.” I went back home and told my father that she was the one.
The second time around, I walked up those stairs more confidently. She was still scared and hid her face in the crook of my arm as we took her home in an auto. It has been almost three months since she came home and life has been such an adventure, with her chewing on our stool constantly, chasing a plastic bottle and barking at it furiously for an hour, peeing in the middle of an important meeting and tugging at our hands constantly every time she wants to play. Last week I pestered my father, “Don’t you like having her around?” He was silent for a long time, before grudgingly admitting, “Yes, it’s nice.” Then he immediately added, “Except when she soils the house.” But every night, when she curls up into a ball and sleeps with her head on my hand, I am so glad that Misty came home on Valentine’s Day.
